


Pretend

by Mishima



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6523660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishima/pseuds/Mishima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want to play a game,” Lazar said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretend

It was one of those rare days where they were both off duty on the same afternoon. Pallas was quick to suggest they take a walk, eager to show Lazar the city. Lazar had very little interest in architecture or statues or looking at whatever the street sellers were offering. However, when Pallas smiled prettily and mentioned the beach, Lazar agreed, thinking about how good Pallas would look naked, wet and covered in sand. 

The beach was nice break from the heat of the Akielon city. The wind felt pleasant against Lazar’s bare chest and was ruffling the skirt of Pallas’ chiton, threatening to expose Pallas’ bottom, but sadly never delivering on the threat.

Pallas soon started one of his games of splashing water on Lazar. He was laughing as he ran, trying to wet Lazar and getting himself wet in the process. The fabric of his chiton was clinging to Pallas’ body, showing his every muscle and outlining his cock.

Lazar ran after him, trying to scowl in fake annoyance but failing. Pallas was laughing when Lazar reached him, toppling them both to the ground. The sound of Pallas’ laughter got louder and he started to squirm under Lazar’s body when Lazar tickled him.

“You little shit,” Lazar said, his hands mercilessly teasing Pallas’ sides.

“Stop.” Pallas forced the words out between his giggles. 

Pallas squirmed some more, trying to turn away from Lazar’s fingers. Lazar liked the way Pallas’ body felt under his own, the way he tried to break free of Lazar’s grip, forcing Lazar to hold him tighter. Pallas’ legs kicked, but Lazar sat over his hips, keeping him in place. Pallas bucked his hips up, almost making Lazar lose his balance, pressing his hardening dick against the fabric of Lazar’s pants.

Lazar stopped tormenting Pallas with his hands and looked down at him. Pallas was smiling, his dimples showing and sand clinging to his face in random patches.

“I want to play a game,” Lazar said.

That got Pallas’ attention.

“Yes?” Pallas licked his lips and his eyes were instantly dark. Lazar loved Pallas’ unwavering enthusiasm about the games Lazar proposed.

“Pretend you don’t want it.” Lazar made sure to convey the meaning of his words with his tone.

Pallas blinked in surprise. “But I want it,” he protested.

“I know.” Lazar chuckled. “But indulge me.” He let go of Pallas, moving to kneel next to him.

Pallas sat up, still looking unsure about the game Lazar proposed. 

“Should I run?” he asked Lazar.

“Yes.”

Pallas’ face screwed up prettily as he thought about it. “But I am a faster runner,” he announced.

Lazar tried to suppress a smile. “Don’t run so fast, then.”

Pallas looked at Lazar’s face. He brought one finger to his mouth as he often did when he was thinking. Then, without warning, Pallas turned and bolted, turning up the sand under his feet.

“Hey,” Lazar shouted and he scrambled to his feet and ran after Pallas.

Pallas ran along the shore, water splashing as his feet hit the ground, occasionally looking over his shoulder to check how far behind Lazar was. Even if he was slowing it down for Lazar’s sake, Pallas was fast and he made Lazar work hard to close the distance.

When Lazar finally managed to catch up to Pallas, he wrapped his arms around Pallas’ waist and tried to bring them both to the ground. Pallas thrashed violently, elbowing Lazar in the stomach and cursing in Akielon.

“Maybe don’t be so good at wrestling, either.” Lazar said between gritted teeth. Pallas was taking the not want part of their game too seriously.

Pallas got free of Lazar’s hold, but Lazar made one last desperate leap and grabbed Pallas’ leg, making them both hit the sand on their stomachs.

With a firm grip on Pallas’ leg, Lazar dragged Pallas’ body closer to his. Unable to find purchase for his hand, Pallas started to turn his body. Lazar could feel that every instinct of Pallas’ told him to kick, but Pallas ignored it and allowed Lazar to climb on top of him.

“Nooo,” Pallas said, his tone more amused than frightened, “Oh, please, soldier, let me go.”

Lazar took hold of both of Pallas’ hands and pinned them over his head as Pallas thrashed lightly. 

“You are mine now, boy.” Lazar said, trying to sound dangerous and failing.

Under him, Pallas burst out laughing.

“You are not supposed to laugh!”

“S--sorry.” Pallas tried to stop, but he was helpless and the laughter kept bubbling out of him.

“You are terrible at this game,” Lazar sulked, letting go of Pallas’ hands. “What’s so funny?”

Pallas took a deep breath, calming himself. 

“You,” Pallas said after a moment, “You could never force yourself on me.”

“I wouldn’t want to, but I certainly could.” Lazar protested.

“No.” Pallas retorted.

“Why not?”

“I’m stronger. And besides,” Pallas smirked, “You are old.”

Lazar opened his mouth to say something back but nothing came out. He closed it again. Suddenly he didn’t want to play this game anymore. He stood up, glaring at Pallas from the higher angle. “I’m not that much older,” he said grumpily.

Pallas followed Lazar. Smiling, Pallas started to pat Lazar to brush off the sand. “Let’s go home, old man.” Pallas teased. “If you are not too tired, I might let you cork me.”

Pallas started to walk in the direction they had come from. With his bad mood magically fixed, Lazar followed.


End file.
